


But that's another story

by half_wool



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_wool/pseuds/half_wool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kristy Thomas always thought that she would be friends with the girls from the Club forever. However, things don't always end up the way we want them to. Kristy grew up, the girls grew up. Kristy changed, she thinks, to become a better, smarter, person. The other girls? Not so much. Now, during the Christmas break of their sophomore year of college, they'll have the chance to meet, all together, for the first time since they left Stonybrook to go to college. That's when it hits the fan, because the girls have no idea that Kristy became a riot-having, bisexual-being, feminist. What the fuck is up with that?</p>
<p>This is the first part of a two-parts story. </p>
<p>I do hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write Kristy as realistically -and imperfectly, as possible. Also, I was very intrigued of what could happen if Stacey and Kristy were paired together. Here is how I think it would go down.

I can still remember the look in Bart’s eyes. I remember his sneer. I remember that I was wearing new flip-flops. But we were only twelve when we started “dating”. It was nothing special, really. It didn’t mean anything. We were just kids. And anyway, I was busy with the Club and my softball team, and he was busy with his. It’s only now that I realize that our team never played against each other after we broke up.

But now I’m nineteen, nearly twenty. And I’m in college. And I’m procrastinating during my exams. Perfect path to success.

“Hey Kris! I brought you some brownies, for courage.”

I looked up from my textbook. Jo was combing the snowflakes out of her hair.

“Thanks. How was your last exam?” 

Jo put the brownies on my bed and threw herself on her chair. 

“Ugh, it was horrible. I’m sure that my prof hates me. Did I ever told you what he wrote on my final paper?”

“Yes Jo, but when you write on a college paper that Aristotle was one of the greatest minds of the Middle Ages in your philosophy class, you’re kind of asking for trouble.”

Jo sighed, a smirk on her lips.

“What if I am?”

What if she is, indeed? We are speaking about the girl who flirts shamelessly with all of her Profs.

“How’s your studying going?”

It was my time to sigh. I closed the textbook that I wasn’t reading anyway. I leaned back on my frail chair (screw you, crappy dorms!) and rubbed my eyes.

“I’m so tired.”

Jo patted me on the thigh empathically. Then sat on my lap.

“I can’t wait to get out of this horrible tiny dorm room. I still can’t believe that we couldn’t even find an apartment in town this year. I’m so sick on this place, it smells like hormones and vomit.”

I crunched my nose, disgusted, but still managed to laugh. I clumsily threw my pillow at her, but it hit me in the face, being a few inches from hers. Jo kissed me on the cheek.

“Woah there, nerd, I wouldn’t want you to sprain your thumb or something.” She joked while rubbing my cheek, trying to get off the lipstick stain.

I laughed. I accepted the insult. It _is_ true. Middle school, tomboy Kristy would not be proud of me.

“I’ll miss you during the holidays.”

Jo hummed, then got off my lap and absent-mindedly started to look through her things on her desk.

“So you’re actually going back to New England? What is your hometown called again?”

“S-Stonybrook.”

I cleared my throat and opened my textbook again.

“Ah, yes. So when are you leaving Boulder?”

I sighed. “I don’t really know. My mother was supposed to book me a flight, but I haven’t heard from her yet. Anyway, Colorado is pretty far from Connecticut.”

“Have you told her yet that you changed your major to Women’s studies?”

“No!”

I nearly screamed. I instinctively cast glances around me, like my mother was going to burst out of my closet.

“She’ll never know.”

Jo looked at me. “But Watson does.”

“Right, but it’s only because he’s paying for my studies. Anyway, I made him promise to never say a word to my mother. You know how she gets when things don’t go her way.”

Jo nodded her head tersely. She was there when I first move here last year. My mother was a pain in the ass, as usual.

“Well, _I_ think that it’s the best major.”

“That’s because you ARE a women’s studies major.”

“Fuck yeah. And so far I’ve learned excellent skills.”

“What, like how to play forward on the other team?”

Jo looked outraged yet admirative at my jab. We both laughed. Knowing –and living with Jo for two years, I learned early on that Jo described herself as, not quite a bisexual, but more like a “sexual being”- and I’ve seen the proof of that affirmation. 

“Aw, darling. Don’t tell me you’re jealous now.”

At that exact moment, someone knocked on our door. We both jumped.

“Darling? Are you there, angel?”

Trying to remove as much lipstick as possible with the back of her hands (a mission that we already learned was impossible), the “angel” opened the door reluctantly. Jo’s parents walked in with the usual expression of shyness upon their faces. So different from my family.

Her mother looked around our dorm, squinting at a hot pink banner that displayed “fuck misogyny”. Shit. I forgot to hide it. I tried to distract them from the feminist calamity that is our room.

“Hello Mr and Mrs Levi!”

“Hi dear. Did your examinations went well?”

While I shook their hands, my vigorous grasp nearly crushing their gentle one, I could see Jo in the corner of my eye pretending to shoot herself.

“I still have two exams left.”

“Oh, well that’s too bad, we could’ve drive you back to Missouri.”

“She’s from Connecticut, mother. And anyway, we live in Idaho, it’s kinda not in the same direction, ya know?”

Her father, a calm and stern man, threw a reproachful look.

“Josephine, do not speak with that tone to your mother.”

Sensing that my presence was not required, I grabbed my textbook and, after wishing the Levis a merry Christmas, escaped to the library. On my way there, I walked slowly, looking at the snow falling slowly on the ground. Perhaps it’s the conversation that I just had with Jo, or maybe because I’m homesick (ha! Ha! NOT!), but I couldn’t stop thinking about my family, my old friends and that stupid town. I spent the last summer doing an internship in Boulder and it was an incredible experience. And also a very good excuse to not go to Stonybrook for the summer holidays. That’s a good reason why I wasn’t in Stonybrook, scooping ice cream and baby-sitting kids. How could they blame me for not returning to that lame place for four whole months, doing nothing and watching the time go by? It’s been two years since I’ve seen my family. I refused to visit them last Thankgiving and Christmas. I spent the holidays at Jo’s, _not_ celebrating it in fact because her family’s Jewish. Spending Christmas at Watson and mom’s house seemed like a bad idea after what happened. Anyways. The good thing is that I’ll finally be able to see my brothers and sisters with my own eyes!

I have to believe that this Christmas will be not be horrendous. Not the best, obviously, with all that history between my mother and me, but for the sake of the kids, I guess.

That evening, when I returned to my empty dorm room (Jo left a buttplug under my pillow- how thoughtful), I realized that I had one message on the answer machine.

“Hi Kristy, this is your mother. I booked your flight in two days, on the 22nd. Charlie will pick you up from the airport.”

The strident beep at the end of the message made me jump. The voice of my mother, like an elephant in the room, felt like it was squeezing me vigorously against the walls of my miserable little dorm. The excitement that I felt earlier when thinking of my siblings was long gone.

“You told her _what_?”

“I told my mother that she’s an asshole.”

“Kris! I can’t believe –.”

I shook my phone frenetically, trying to get the connection back.

“Jo? _Jo?_ Can you hear me?”

I sighed, and then hung up. Since she got her cell phone (gracious Hanukkah gift from mom and dad), I can’t stand to speak on the phone with her. I can’t believe that we’re going be in 1997 and those crappy plastic things are still going to be around.

Jo obviously cannot help me here; my mother now hates me for good. Great. Perfect. _Wonderful_. And what’s the cherry on top? I’m going to be in Stonybrook in less then 12 hours. Cold, small, pathetic Stonybrook. And now that Jo and I can’t seem to be able to speak to each other, she’s probably never going to know that two days ago, my mother called me on my dorm phone. It’s like my mother doesn’t even realize that I’m not on Connecticut time. I’ve been living in Colorado for two years now; maybe it’s time for her to finally accept-

My phone rang again. My neighbours are going to be pissed.

“Jo?” I guessed tentatively.

“Tell me everything Kris.”

“Two days ago my mother called me, and we talked, and then I told her that she’s an asshole.”

“What did you talked about?”

“Nothing important. Just the usual bullshit that my mother serves me on a fucking silver platter”, I said gloomily.

“Yeah, but did she said something wrong?”

“She’s always saying something wrong Jo. Shit’s always flying out of that woman’s mouth.”

I heard Jo sighed on the other end. She wasn’t exactly what you would call patient.

“But Kris, you do realize that it’s your mother that we’re talking about here. Not some old white misogynistic men that we always complain about.”

I played absent-mindedly with the telephone cord. “Yeah. Whatever. I don’t really care, you know? It’s been two years since I’ve seen her.”

“And it’s been two years since all the things that she ever did to you are eating you from the inside! You can’t live like this, hating her like that. Kids need their mothers!”

Our conversation began to sound too much like a weird episode of a soap opera.

“Oh my god, Jo. I’ve been taking care of my younger siblings for years when Watson and her were getting it on in their 2 millions bucks bedroom.”

“Oh my gosh, Kris. I’m sure it wasn’t like that.”

“Excuse me, were you there? While you were taking your piano lessons and going to princess slumber parties, I was up to my elbows-“

“Oh boo hoo. You can be so melodramatic sometimes. And by the way, will you finally tell me what you and your mother talked about? Did she learn what was your major or something?”

“For fuck’s sake, Jo, it’s not that kind of bullshit. You don’t understand.”

I could literally hear Jo exploding.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to fucking understand, _child_.”

“Stop calling me child, you always do that. You sound like your mother.”

I knew that it was a low blow.

“Oh, go suck a dick.”

“With pleasure.”

I hung up, breathless. Jo’s one of my favourite people in the world, but every time we talk about my mother we always end up fighting. I looked at the time and my stomach turned. I have to leave in half an hour, and I’m still not prepared. Well you know, I prepared my luggage yesterday, but you know what I mean. Ugh, what am I even saying.

I stood up from my bed and looked at myself in the mirror that hangs from my closet door. I sucked in my belly, drew my shoulders back, and elongated my neck. Hands on my hips, I looked at myself from head to toe. The thoughts are there, spiralling inside my head. I removed my blouse, then my skirt, and then my underwear. I tried to suck in my belly as much as I could, but it just wouldn’t do. I looked at my chest. I could still remember the first time that I tried on a bra. It was in tenth grade, after I had my first period. I remember feeling so sad and so old. But now I just can’t imagine myself walking around campus with no bra. Just the thought of it makes me shudder.

I hurriedly put back my clothes on, took one last look at my miserable room, and then headed out the door. Stonybrook, here I fucking come.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hello stranger.” 

Two big hands firmly grasped my shoulders. Startled, I turned around to see my brother Charlie (with a beard!) smiling at me with that mischievous smile of his. He looked behind me, his eyes following the carousel gently spinning with the entire luggage passing by us.

“Looking for something?”

I smiled. “My luggage, it’s missing.”

Charlie smirked. “No it’s not.”

Thrusting my luggage into my arms, Charlie turned around without a second glance.

“Now hurry up, it’s a long ride to Stonybrook.”

I laughed nervously, then I stopped myself. _Am I_ nervous? Neither of us spoke to one another since I’m in Colorado. I didn’t really know what to say, to be honest. What am I supposed to say? It’s in these kind of moments that I long for Jo. She would know what to say to a brother that she hasn’t seen since she graduated from high school. I followed Charlie to his car, the same ugly green van that he used to drive me in when I was-

“You had a nice trip?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

I cast a furtive glance at Charlie, who is walking in long strides, as usual, not realizing that I’m a good two feet shorter than him. Struggling to keep up, my eyes lingered on his hair. It grew, and his beard too. But he’s as fit as ever, just like mom wants us to be.

“Your carriage, my lady,”

After a while, the silence in the car got too overwhelming. I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous.

“So… How have you been?”

“Good.”

I nodded.

We said nothing for quite a few hours, only some corny country music breaking the silence, until Charlie stopped at a convenience store to buy us some lunch.

“You want something?”

“Ham and cheese sandwich, please.”

I never knew that it could be this awkward between my own brother and me. But what the fuck am I supposed to say? It’s not like I’m the only one in the car. Feeling like a child, I just wanted to stuck my finger at him and complain loudly: “But it’s _his_ fault too!”.

When we passed the sign that says “Stonybrook, 10 miles”, I suddenly felt like my ham and cheese sandwich might end up on the dashboard. I swallowed hard. I saw Charlie throwing me a furtive look. Trying to think about something else, I attempted to start a conversation again.

“So… Did you read any good books?”

“Er… Sports Magazine?” He said, like it was the most obvious answer ever.

I laughed, not really knowing why.

“Oh, er, well I just read the _most_ amazing book for one of my class, it’s called ‘The Feminine Mystique’. It was one of the m-“

I stopped speaking abruptly. Shit. What if Charlie guesses that I’ve changed my major? It’s not like you read feminist books in your usual college classes.

But Charlie said nothing, simply staring at the road in front of us. It started to snow.

“How’s the family been?”

“Oh now is the time to ask?”

I felt the blood leaving my face. Furious, I looked out the window on my side of the car, biting my lip to stop myself saying what’s on the back of my mind since the beginning of this fucking trip. Fucking asshole.

“Well. Sam is a salesman at a car dealership in Bangor. He’s really good. He’s one of the best salesman there.”

So that’s what Sam decided to do with his pathetic life.

“And David Michael… well he is quite the charmer, if you know what I mean.”

Charlie laughs, puffing out his chest stupidly, like it’s all his merit that his little brother attracts thirteen year old girls.

“Karen is quite the troublemaker, she is. It drove Watson nuts; you should’ve seen him. He and Karen didn’t spoke for weeks. Andrew decided to go live with his mom permanently, so we don’t really see much of him. And Emily is the cutest little princess, really. She’s doing great too.”

I hummed. I felt like I should say something.

“That’s… fantastic.”

Charlie nodded proudly.

“And I’m doing my plumber apprenticeship.”

I tried to smile. I really did. “That’s great Charlie.”

“Thanks. But what about you? Did you made a boyfriend since you’ve been in D.C?”

“I live in Colorado.”

Charlie didn’t listen, simply raising his eyebrows expectantly at me. I tried really hard not to roll my eyes at him. What does it matter, if I have a boyfriend or not? Last time I checked, how I’m DOING matters more, or how I find my classes, or if I learned something interesting in the last two fucking years of my existence. Oh, and last time I checked, I was fucking _anybody_ I wanted.

“Hmm… I wouldn’t say that.”

Okay, maybe that answer was a little too… revealing. It’s not like I have a girlfriend right now or anything. But still, the damage had been done. Charlie looked at me. I looked at him. He opened his mouth hesitantly. Did mom told the family anything, after all? I was so pissed that I was ready to spill the beans. Before he could say anything, we were there. Home.

“Hello!”

A brown head peaked out of the door. I swallowed hard. My heart was beating so hard I swear you could see it pulsing on the side of my neck.

“Hey.”

Two almond-shaped eyes looked at me curiously.

“Kristy?” She asked me tentatively. Her hesitant tone broke my heart.

“Hi Emily!” I exclaimed uncomfortably, my voice so high that the dogs in San Francisco probably heard me. My eyes could not support her piercing gaze. If I could, my face would redden. But I’ve never blushed in my entire life.

“Kristy, is that you?”

My mother’s voice threw me completely off guard. I tried to speak, hum, anything. But no sound was coming from my gaping mouth. Charlie entered the house with my luggage, ignoring my obvious discomfort.

“Is that your luggage?” Emily asked me.

I nodded again.

“Why? Are you staying here?” She looked confuse.

“Er...”

So my own mother didn’t even told my family that I was coming for Christmas? Fucking bitch.

Suddenly, Emily’s face lit up.

“Oh, yeah. I remember now! You’re coming for Christmas!” She exclaimed. She was so tall. Taller than I expected.

Before another awkward silence threatened to take over the conversation, my mother’s voice boomed through the entry.

“Emily dear, is that Charlie at the door?”

Yep, she just blatantly ignored me. Get used to it folks.

Emily excitedly replied.

“Mommy, Kristy’s there too! She’s back from college!”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Well, come in, then.”

 ***

“So, now that we’re all here, finally, Kristy, tell us all about the businesses of Colorado.” Watson looked at me over his wine glass, making the crystal stem roll between his fingers.

I froze. The what? Then it dawned on me: basically my whole family (except Watson, who stupidly thought that asking me questions about my major was a good idea) thought that I was doing a business major. It’s what I always said that I wanted to do. Everybody always said that I was so good at it. Fuck. I had to be more prepared to lie. Jo didn’t prepare me enough for this shit-hole.

“They’re erm… they’re great.”

For a few minutes after my hesitant response, there were only the sounds of the forks scraping against the plates that filled the silence. My eyes were fixed on my veal, and when I finally looked up, Karen was looking at me, visibly disgruntled. She looked so pre-pubescent that it hurt my eyes just to look at her oily skin and badly applied eyeliner.

“So…” My voice was shaking. I swallowed hard, mortified at my own embarrassment. “So, how have you guys been doing? Any big news?”

My mom didn’t even looked at me. Watson had just left the table to go in the basement, searching for another bottle of wine, so he wasn’t there to politely make conversation with me. I didn’t feel wanted at all. I felt scrutinized and uneasy. I tried, in vain, to reason myself. I was really tired and on a mean jetlag; tomorrow is a new day, surely by then my mother will have smiled at me once.

“Are you a lesbo now?”

I jumped and gazed at Karen, who was eying me suspiciously. Her fork was twirling in her hands, scratching against her painted nails (the colour was absolutely horrendous, by the way). I wondered for a second if this was a dream. I looked around in wonder, amazed at how my three brothers were smirking stupidly and trying –it didn’t seem like they were trying at all- to hide their laugh. My mother was pointedly avoiding my gaze and Emily was, just like I had done a few moments before, fixing her plate.

“No.” I responded, my tone rough and defensive. I wanted to roll my eyes at myself, and I felt incredibly uncomfortable and frustrated. Does it mean that mom told them?

The silence was getting longer. I had trouble remaining in my seat, I just wanted to jump on mom and slap that grin off her face. I felt like somebody ought to say something, but nothing came to my mind. I think I was too embarrassed, yet, completely furious. I opened my mouth tentatively to say whatever would come to my mind, but before any word could cross my lips, Watson appeared from the basement’s staircase, holding a dusty bottle of wine in each hand.

“Got them!” He exclaimed, beaming. His grin slightly faded at our sight. Clearly, he must’ve felt the coldness radiating from the dining room.

“Anybody want a glass?”

“I’ll take one.”

“Sure, Krissy.”

The nickname made me shudder. It didn’t felt right at all. I wanted to go home, to be in my dorm. I longed to be with Jo and her weird but still loveable parents. I sighed.

“Is that enough?” gesturing towards the wine glass he was slowly filling.

“Yes, thank you."

A few painful minutes later, I was finally excused from the table. I scattered hurriedly into my room, which is the same as ever. Too big, and ugly. I fell on my bead, completely exhausted. What was all that about? Why did my mother never ever acknowledged my presence? Did she told the family about me? It really looked as if they didn’t believe me when I said I wasn’t a lesbian. And ugh I’m such a _fucking_ bad liar. Did somebody else told them about me? No. Of course not. They’re in Connecticut and I’m in Colorado, who would tell them?

What if, once, my mother decided to come and see me in Boulder, and she went to my dorm room, one way or another. And them Jo opened the door, because I was in class, and one of her girlfriends was there with her, and mom decided to ask a few questions…

What? No. That can’t be true. I’m totally freaking out right now. I’m going completely nuts.

My computer emitted a small “bing!” that made me jump. I looked it up, expecting to see an email from Jo appears, but it was from an unknown. I opened it hesitantly and immediately regretted it after I did. “Krissy! This is Mary Anne! You do remember me, right? I think this is your email address –Claudia had it somewhere.  Anyway, the Club wanted to organize something so that we could all see each other! When are you available? Email me the days and I’ll schedule something.”

Fuck me.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

I never though that this could more embarrassing. I felt fat and ugly and awkward. My shoulders were so tensed that they were up to my ears. I was fidgeting so violently that I felt like I was trying to dislocate my own wrists. My left foot was scratching the back of my right leg. I felt the snow stuck on my boot slide down my jean.

Bart was here. Bart was actually right in front of me, talking to my mom.

We’re in the grocery store. I did not actually went to the grocery store only with my mother to have a special “mother-daughter bonding time” experience. Karen and Emily are there too. Well, Karen didn’t want to be seen with us, so she stayed in the car. But Emily is with us. Actually, she disappeared a few minutes ago between the shelves.

She’s so cute, she’s actually the only one in my family who doesn’t ignore me or stare at me like they think that I’m, and I quote Karen, a “little dyke”. Yes, she called me that. Yes, it was in front of my mother, who completely ignored it. 

“So, Kris, how’re the studies going? Is it hard being a business major?”

I laughed uncomfortably. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. 

“It’s ok.”

Wow, Kris. Very eloquent.

His brown eyes looked me up and down slowly. My fidgeting got worse, if that's actually possible. “So how is Colorado?”

“It’s good.” I said, shifting from one foot to another. Thank god I was wearing my huge puffy winter coat. That way he couldn’t see that I put on that freshman 15, that I don't have that slight, petite, athletic body anymore. I put my hands in my pockets. Isn’t it my turn to start to interrogatory?

“So… How about you?”

Bart shot at me one of his dazzling smiles. “I’m actually doing my major in business too –" 

“And Bart is the captain of the lacrosse team _and_ the debate team!” Exclaimed my mother, all eyes on Bart.

Wow! He’s got brains, AND muscles!

“Wow. That’s great.” I said with no enthusiasm at all. Jo the rebel would’ve been proud at my lack of anything.

The remaining of the conversation was all about the workout Bart does and blah blah blah. How come people who workout are such dicks? Does it come with the gym membership?

“…and of course you know what they say about protein powder these days…”

No, mother, I don’t. Please fucking enlighten me. 

I looked around to check for Emily. She’s still gone. The grocery store’s tiny, where the fuck could she have been?

“… but I always make sure to put Vaseline on my nipples…”

Why do _why_ athletes (especially runners, by my experience) think that we want to know all about their nipples and their penis and their balls?

“Anyway, great seeing you. You should come more often to the house. I know the boys would be glad to learn a few tricks –you know Sam and David Michael love lacrosse too?”

“Well, I’m sure with Krissy at the house for the holidays there won’t be time to slow down.”

Ugh. Why does he keep talking about me in front of me? Why does he keep smiling at me so politely? Why is he so prim and proper? How fucking dare him. I looked at his jet black hair, his brown eyes, his square shoulders, his large hands. He's just as fit as he was when we were playing softball together.  

Why am I here? Why is this happening? I should be in Colorado. 

“…playing sports?”

My mother elbowed me in the ribs quite painfully. I looked at her, bewildered.

“What?”

“Bart was asking you a question, honey.” She laughed, her laugh high-pitched and irritating.

“W-what?” I blurted out.

Bart looked genuinely concerned. “You’re still playing softball, right? Is there a team in Boulder?”

Is there?

“No, there isn’t.” I threw a look at my mom, and then the words “unfortunately” came out of my mouth. A bit stunned, I didn’t dare say more. What will I say next, that the patriarchy doesn’t exist? However, my ramblings seemed to satisfy my mother, who was (now) drinking in every word I was saying.

Bart was looking at me through slightly squinted eyes, a small smirk stretched across his face. He looked mischievous, like when our softball teams were playing against each other. He looked so relaxed, too, while I had difficulty making eye contact at him.

“Well, we should be going.” My mother looked around, like she just realised that we were in a grocery store.

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Thomas.”

My mom shook Bart’s hand while I firmly pushed mine further in my winter coat’s pockets.

Bart disappeared behind an aisle and my mom’s eyes were immediately glued to her pager.

“We have to buy a turkey.” I muttered.

She didn’t even looked up from her pager. “You’ll do that this evening, taking a walk will be good for you.”

I nodded absent-mindedly. I learned a long time ago that it was no use arguing against my mother. She always won. I brushed my hand against my neck, just below my chin, my fingers pinching the fat. I looked at my mother’s chin, that only age had managed to make the skin a touch more flabby.

“Where is Emily? Have you seen her?”

“No.” 

“I’ll go pay, you look for her.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

I walked through the aisles mechanically, scared shitless that Bart was going to suddenly pop out from behind one. I don’t wanna talk to him. I don’t wanna talk about it. Why doesn’t everybody just leave me alone?

“Emily! There you are!”

She smiled politely. She was looking at the magazines. I didn’t know if it was my heart or my stomach that squeezed more painfully when I saw the emaciated faces looking at me through shallow eyes, harbouring too-smooth skin and skinny arms. Part of me, the women’s studies major part, wanted to throw these magazines into the nearest garbage, but the other part, the my-mother’s-daughter part, wanted nothing more but to gaze hungrily at their perfect frames and faces.

Emily pointed at a magazine that, according to the cover, was destined for girls her age.

“Can you ask mom if I can have a magazine?”

The women’s studies major part took over.

“You don’t need that shit, Emily.” I bit my lips. Woopsie. Clearly flabbergasted at my use of what would my mother call “not a lady’s way of speaking”, Emily’s jaw hit the floor.

“I mean… Of course, sweetie.”

I never asked her. Afterwards I lied to Em and said that our mother didn’t want to buy the magazine.

When we got in the car, Karen was painting her nails, making little dots. The strong smell made me feel nauseous, so when I got home I went directly to bed to sleep it off... and to avoid making conversation with anybody.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Krissy?”

A small voice, very far away, was whispering my name. I can’t remember a time when Jo ever called me Krissy.

“ _Krissy!_ ”

“Not now, Jo.” I muttered, half asleep.

“It’s me, you idiot!”

My eyes flew open. David Michael was at the door of my room, his lanky arms crossed in front of him, his expression grouchy. Despite his quite muscular… exterior, his voice still remained childlike, his face was hairless and his cheeks were round. His eyes, as brown and plain as mine, were fixing my legs (who looked considerably hairy in contrast of his face) that were sprawled against my neatly made bed, thanks to the house-keeper. I looked at his legs, hidden beneath the ugliest pair of loose basketball shorts I have ever seen. For a 14 years old, he sure looked like a kid alright.

“Mary Ann wants to speak to you.”

I jumped out of my bed in a matter of seconds.

“Now?!?”

“Yeah.” Responded David Michael, eyeing me suspiciously.

I hurriedly tried to comb my hair with my fingers. “Why did she came here without calling first?”

“She’s not here, she wants to speak to you, you know, on the _phone_?”

I dropped my arms to my side, feeling like an utter idiot. “Oh. Okay.”

I grabbed the phone from his hands and closed the door in his face. One more minute and his hormones would’ve been all over my stuff.

“Hey.”

“Hi Krissy!”

Oh, shit. That voice. That high, hesitating voice that I’ve heard basically everyday during my childhood.

“Yes?”

“How are you? It’s been so long?”

“I… I’m good.” I tried to swallow, but my throat was sandpaper dry.

“Me too! Those exams were so tough, right? Ugh, college! But wait –“ her voice grew hesitant, “you’re in college, right?”

“Yeah. I’m studying at Colorado State.”

“Oh, right.”

Why does she keep saying right?

“So… You called me?” 

“Oh.” She giggled. Like seriously giggled. “I’m such a scatterbrain!”

I laughed politely, feeling like I ought to say something.

“… What are you planning, then?”

“Oh! Right!” I cringed. “Everybody’s so happy that all the members of the club are all in Connecticut. You remember how it was last year, don’t you? There were only me, Claud and Mal. It was so weird without the whole club there. But I guess you were having so much fun where you were spending the Holidays. Stonybrook is so boring, _right_? ”

Is that a trick question? I decided to answer with the most vague answer possible. “Hmm.”

The names of the girls were strangely familiar, like an old song you used to listen to that you rediscover, one day, when you least expect it. I felt like in a movie, when there’s a bunch of flashbacks hurling themselves through the screen in slow motion. Suddenly, I remembered everything. The laughs, the jokes, the stupid fights, the tears, the hugs. Everything that I made such an effort to forget. It felt bittersweet. It’s weird, but my throat squeezed painfully. I closed that part of my brain like a drawer shut tight. I tried not to cry. Suddenly my chin started to tremble. Fuck. I’m the worst at not making my voice quivery. While Mary Ann was blabbering about her cat Tigger and her father and Sharon, I moved the phone from my face and tried my best to breathe normally by taking deep breaths, a.k.a my best method to not cry.

“So you’re in?”

I didn’t even think about it for a second. I swallowed hard, my throat still lumpy.

“Okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

 

I seriously had to talk to myself, like straight up convince and reassure myself, to ring that fucking bell. When I pressed it, I heard it rang through the house like a million echoes. I nervously glanced behind me, where my mom’s car once was seconds before. Yes, she drove me here. Quite humiliating when you’re twenty years old, but at least I know that I’m not the only one who’s treated like a fucking two years old, seeing that there’s only Mary Ann’s parent’s cars in the alley. I’m gonna try to hitch a ride with someone because I do NOT want my mom to see me drunk. I heard footsteps coming closer and closer to the front door.

“KRIS! OH MY GOSH IT’S YOU!”

Mary Ann flung her arms around me and hugged me tightly.

“I didn’t even recognized you at first, y- you’ve changed so much.” She whispered in my ear, giggling slightly.

I frowned at the hesitant tone in her voice. When she lessened her grip, she looked me up and down. I crossed my arms in front me defensively. At least I was still wearing my big winter jacket, but not for long. Until now, I thought that my ripped jeans and my unbuttoned shirt over my graphic tee (a “Hole” t-shirt that I bought at a concert that they had in Boulder a few months ago – it was in all honesty the best night) was hopefully making me look as much as possible as the next Ani DiFranco, but now that I was removing my jacket and that Mary Ann had made me go through all the elevator-staring thing, I wasn’t so sure. Jo would’ve taken me by the shoulders and made me an inspirational speech about freedom and self-confidence, and I’m not bad myself at acting cool and _suave_ , but it went all out the window. Just being in Stonybrook completely destroyed my carefully built self-esteem. I tried to push my shoulders back bravely, but to no avail; I think I just looked constipated. 

“Is anyone here? I didn’t see cars in the alley.”

“Oh, yeah, Claud drived all the girls, w-we forgot to tell you. But she’ll certainly be able to drive you back, right?”

Okay, then, I get it, if that’s how it’s going to be.

Mary Ann took my jacket and put it in the closet. Seeing her do that made me think of an excellent ice-breaker joke that I learned from all the women’s major parties that I went to that implied a closet and two lesbians, but the words died on my lips. Just something about Mary Ann’s long, _straight_ hair. Ha. Ha. Ugh. I’m a disaster.

“Soooooo… Everybody’s really excited to meet youuuu..” She giggled, drawing the words. “I mean,” She added, “That’s why everybody’s here, right?”

I tried to crack a smile, but the results were quite horrible. Why was she doing this to me, stressing me out like that?

I followed her shyly into the basement, as we were going down the stairs, I could here different voices cackling and laughing. I squeezed my hands into fists so hard that I felt my nails cutting through my palms.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, who’s that? Is that who I think it is?”

Mary Ann jumped the last few stairs, landing perfectly on the ugly green carpet that was still here. With a charisma and energy that I didn’t know she had, she extended her arms towards me, like when the pretty girls show off the big cars on The Price is Right.

“Krissy is here!!!” She screamed in a singsong voice.

Screams. That’s all I could hear. I tried to smile and hugged while people that looked like complete strangers flung their arms around me. Did Mary Ann invited the whole neighbourhood?

“Holy shit Kristy! What happened to you?” Somebody asked, clearly joking.

But still, it made my hands turn into ice. Two, sweaty ice cubes. I crossed my arms really tightly, awkwardly avoiding eye contacts.

“Hey! You didn’t answer my question.”

I turned my head toward the voice. It was Stacey, or more like an angel from heaven. Her long, blond hair was longer and blonder than before. I couldn’t help but realize that her eyeliner was on point and that, in fact, her whole make-up was on point. And also her outfit. She looked like Hilary Clinton, but trendier, younger and hotter. I immediately felt, more than ever, that my ripped jeans were not appropriate. Obviously, with what she was wearing, there was no reason why she wouldn’t have commented on my lack of fashion sense.

She looked quite snarky. And just like Mary Anne had done a few moments before, she eyed me up and down, her eyes slowly going over my “Hole” t-shirt.

“Didn’t know you were going to turn grunge. Old Kristy can go eat her turtlenecks and snapbacks.”

Everyone laughed. I nodded and shrugged at the same time, not really knowing what to say. I was just so embarrassed. 

 

 

A few hours after, we were all sitting on the floor in a circle, drinking and smoking. Well, Stacey was doing the majority of the smoking bit, since she couldn’t really drink, being diabetic and all. Everybody was not super drunk – or stoned, yet, and so the conversation wasn’t really fucked up, but it was still really sloppy. After my second beer, my hands had stopped sweating profusely, so that was quite the relief. The first few minutes had definitively been the more awkward ones of my life, and this is including my Frosh Week, so that is saying a lot. But after a few minutes, people started to mingle and I wasn’t the center of attention anymore. I remembered, feeling nostalgic, about the time when we planned a surprise birthday party for Mary Anne and how horrified she was. At that time, at the beginning of the party, the girls were speaking among each other and the boys were doing the same, but now it was quite different. It was divided in the people who’re in college in Connecticut State, and the people who went away, like me. Claudia, Mary Anne, Bart (since when was _he_ here?) and Jessie, a.k.a the in-state crowd, were speaking to each other, and I was speaking with Stacey, Mallory and Shannon. While I spoke to the girls, I felt uncomfortable, like everybody was looking at me and analyzing every movement that I made. I crossed my arms tighter, regretting my big winter coat. Shannon looked exactly how she looked two years ago, and Mallory too. Obviously they looked older, but that was expected. However, Stacey was so hot, definitely not the same. She looked so sophisticated, puffing the smoke slowly. Like, seriously, so hot. Maybe it was because of the booze, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I felt like a prepubescent boy watching his older sister’s friend. She kept throwing her head back when she laughed, revealing her smooth, thin throat to all its glory… Holy shit Kristy you need to shut the fuck up.

“So, what do you do in Colorado? Had any fun yet?” Stacey asked, flashing at me one of her dazzling smile.

I tried to form words with my mouth. But I just couldn’t do it. I took a gulp from my beer. I swear it made me look cool.

“Well err… Yes.” I muttered after swallowing my mouthful.

Stacey and the girls looked at me blankly.

“Well???” She pressed on, “what do you do?”

“I, er…”

What do I say? Oh god.

“I mostly hang out with the people from my department. They’re chill so it’s cool.”

The girls nodded like what I said had actual meaning. Phew.

I tried to make conversation. “So… Where are you guys studying again?”

Stacey straightened up, the image of perfection, except for her red lipstick that was slightly smudged, but she was so hot, with her joint between her thin fingers. I tried not to look so starstruck.

“NYU.” She said, oozing self-confidence. I nodded. Of course she was back in New York, probably doing a major in fashion or something. I wonder if she’s still dating that guy that she was dating two-years ago… What was his name…

“After boarding school, I wasn’t sure what to do with my life, you know?” Said Mallory after taking a large gulp from her drink that she told me earlier was rum and coke. “When you’re living there, it’s like you’re in a quaint, little bubble.” She half laughed, half hiccupped. “A quaint, little, all-girl’s bubble.”

I swallowed too much beer, and so I began to cough, feeling like we were venturing into a whole new territory. Stacey, who was sitting on her heels, changed her position, now crossing her legs in front of her. Her long, slim, beautiful, legs…

She blew the smoke slowly, making neat circles, before addressing what I felt was the elephant in the room. “Oh, Mal, are you saying that you’re not driving stick anymore?”

Everybody burst out laughing. Mallory blushed, her crimson hue matching her red hair.

Stacey gaped at her. “ _No?!_ ”

Everybody’s eyes were going back and forth from Stacey’s delighted, yet stunned, face to Mal’s deep red one.

“It was just one time.” Blurted out Mallory.

Nobody made a sound, except Stacey, who laughed with triumph, and then began to cough. I began to look at Mal differently. Maybe if…

“Look, when there’s only girls around things go downhill sometimes.” She explained.

We stared at her.

“Only once!” She cried out, getting more and more riled up.

“It’s fine, Mal. It happens.” I finally said. Not everybody looked like they were agreeing with me, and it made me feel uneasy. 

Stacey’s grinned widened, and even though she addressed Mal, her eyes were on me. “No need to bite my head off, Mal.”

I shrugged uncomfortably, feeling like I ought to explain myself. “What? She can do what she wants.”

“I’m not a fucking dyke, if that’s what you’re asking, Stace.” Spitted out Mallory.

And that’s my cue. Feeling a bit hurt –and thirsty; I got up and went upstairs to make myself a new drink. When I went in the kitchen, Mary Anne’s dad was there, making himself a sandwich. I looked at his gray hair and the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. It felt so peculiar, him and me, so old. He grinned widely at my sight.

“Kristy! What a pleasure!”

He leaned over to shake my hand firmly and looked me up and down. “How are you?”

After politely shaking his hand, I crossed my arms, intentionally covering Courtney Love’s ugly sneer with my arms. “Things are great! Thanks Mr. Spier. And the practice?”

He beamed proudly. “Everything is good. New clients are still coming in after all these years, which is always good for business. But how about you? I heard that you were doing your major in Colorado, is that right?”

I could see two of Mr. Spier and he was quite blurry. But I’m the best at acting sober when I’m not. “Yes. Everything’s swell.”

Wait what did I just said?

“Great. Great.” He began to do more of that looking me up and down thing. “Well” he finally added, “I’m off. Just wanted to get a sandwich before heading upstairs. Have a good time!”

“You too!”

Okay. That was definitely as awkward as I thought it would be.

I opened the cupboards and searched for Sharon and Mr. Spier’s liquor. Nobody would suspect me, anyway. Wait, what is that? Mr. Spier’s old Southern Comfort? Hmm.

I took the bottle that was full to about two-third, and headed downstairs. I sure need liquor to stand those stupid bitches. Err. I mean, my friends.

 

 

“…The worst is when the girls are ugly as fuck. You know the ones that look like lumberjacks but still try to convince everybody that they’re straight by being ‘just friends’ with straight girls? Like, who are you kidding? Admit it, you just wanna fuck me.” 

“I think they’re called… butch?”

“Yeah, yeah, something like that. Fucking weird. Like, you’re a either girl or a guy, and that’s that. Jesus it’s not that hard.”

My head was spinning. Good thing Jo is not here to hear all of this stupid, ignorant mess. I took a large gulp from the bottle and winced. Yup, that Southern shit was comforting all right.

“I wonder, you know…” said Stacey faux-shyly. “Do you think it’s true what they say about the way they fuck?”

I sat down between Jessie and Claudia (the two of them had apparently join our group while I was upstairs socializing with father of the year). Everybody looked weirdly at each other, like we all knew a secret that Stacey didn’t. Finally Jessie was the first to say something.

“You mean, like, scissoring?”

Everybody giggled stupidly. I rolled my eyes so hard that it hurt my poor sockets.

Stacey put a strand of golden hair behind her ear and took a puff from her joint while I stared hungrily. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve never tried it, but-“

“You mean you never wanted to try it.” Mallory asked Stacey rather forcefully. There was a short silence.

“Well. I don’t know about you, but guys love girls who make out with other girls. It turns them on, apparently.”

Claudia snorted. “I don’t really call them girls. More like attention-seeking sluts.”

The girls laughed and agreed heartily while I took another gulp of liquor. I rested my chin in my hands, completely discouraged at my friends. I just have to say something. Either that or I will be ashamed of myself for the rest of my life.

“But, you know, some girls _do_ like girls for the sake of liking girls.” I mumbled tentatively. Wow, that was eloquent as fuck. 

“Yeah, yeah” laughed Mallory like it was all a big joke. “Now. Enough with us embarrassing ourselves” she squinted her eyes briefly at Stacey, who was lighting up a new joint, “it’s time that YOU answer some questions, Kristy.”

I laughed uncomfortably, but not as much as before. I think I’m becoming better at this. Must be because of the Southern stuff.

“You girls are so…” I stopped myself before I said anything bad. I’m drunk, but I’m not THAT drunk.

“What? We’re what, _Krissy_?” asked me Stacey, who was puffing smoke like she was born to do it. Born with the single purpose of blowing smoke like a motherfucking QUEEN OF BADASSNESS.

“You so…” I burped lazily. Wow, that liquor was strong. “You so… wanna play… truth or dare. _Amirite_?” Wait, since when was there only a few mouthfuls of liquor left in the bottle? Did I just drink it all?

“I’m soooooo drunk.” I spluttered, surprised at my own drinking.

“Yes! Perfect! I’m going first!” Exclaimed Stacey, who was still so hot after all that pot. How can she do it while I must be looking like a road kill?

“I’m going to choose….” She looked at each and every one of us. Only then did I realize that everybody’s was sitting with us. The two groups had completely merged. We were all there. Even Bart, who was wedged between Mary Anne and Shannon.

“Jessie!”

“Bring it.” She said confidently.

“Truth or dare?”

She hesitated for a bit. “Truth.”

“Who’s the hottest person in the room? And no cheating!!!”

Stacey.

“I’d say…” She giggled. “Bart.”

Everybody ooh’ed and aah’ed.

“You’re turn, Jess!” Cried the girls.

“Mal!”

“Dare.”

“Take something off.”

Mal got up and began twisting around, her arms inside her shirt, and after a few moments, her bra fell on the floor. The girls laughed hysterically, and the bra went flying around. It fell on Mary Anne, and she screamed.

Mallory seemed to lose her patience. “Ok! Shut up people, I have to pick someone next!”

She looked at Claudia. “You! What do you pick? Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

She hesitated. “Anal?”

Claudia chugged her beer and licked her lips dramatically before smiling widely. “Hella.”

“Ew!” Screamed Mallory.

“That’s gross!” Squealed Mary Anne loudly, who was still not over the bra accident.

“I’m simply honest here, guys.” Claud laughed.

She looked over at Mary Anne with squinted eyes. “Now, Mary Anne, since you’re so perfect, it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

Mary Anne looked at Claudia defiantly, I knew that look. “Dare.” She said confidently.

“I dare you to kiss someone in the room.”

Mary Anne smiled triumphantly. “Can I full-on make out with that said person, Claud?”

Claud shrugged, but her eyes were still squinted. “Be my guest.”

Mary Anne leaned over to Shannon, who seemed startled, with a huge grin on her face, but at the last minute Mary Anne laughed and quickly backed away from Shannon to plant a truly impressive kiss on Bart’s lips.

Bart.

_Bart._

There were laughs. There were screams of glee. I just sat there. I couldn’t control my facial expressions. I think I was too drunk.

Mary Anne was now lying on Bart, who was on the floor. I finished my bottle quickly. I felt like I might puke. When I threw the bottle over my shoulder, too dizzy to put it in the garbage can upstairs, I saw that Stacey was looking at me through a cloud of smoke. Like she knew.

After a few moments, the laughing subsided.

“Ok, lovebirds…” Said Claudia lamely.

They didn’t stop.

Stacey got on her hands and knees and crawly clumsily to Bart and Mary Anne. She was wearing a pencil skirt so from my view, her ass was… woah.

“CUT IT OUT!” Screamed Stacey close to their faces.

They did. When they finally sat back down, Bart threw a furtive look at me. My stomach made a few somersaults. Why did he do that?

“Okay bitches, now it’s my turn!” Exclaimed Stacey.

“I’m choosing….” She was already staring at me, a smirk stretched across her face. “Krissy.”

Please make me kiss you. _Please_.

“Truth or dare, Krissy?”

I didn’t take a second to think about it. “Dare.” I breathed.

She was really stoned, she was speaking really slowly now. “It’s time to make things a bit more exciting. The party’s so boring. So Stonybrook-ish. But we know what the real world looks like, right Kris?”

I nodded, completely bewitched. I think she felt it. Her expression turned… I don’t know how, but it made me horny.

“Make out with…”

I held my breath. Please say you. Please, please, _please_.

She blew rings of smoke out of her perfect mouth, I swear. And I never wanted more in my life to be a joint.

“Make out with me.”

“Not-a-problem.” I said hastily. My words were all mashed up together, like I had chewed on them and were spitting them out, so that it just sounded like gibberish. Thank God I finished that bottle of Southern Comfort a while ago. No more alcohol for me.

Both on our hands and knees, we moved towards each other slowly. Like lions. No, like cheetahs. We were only looking at one another. It seemed like there were nobody else. That’s it. I’m in love. That’s my future wife. Mrs. Stacey motherfucking Thomas. I stumbled a bit, the liquor dulling my senses.

Our faces were close. She smelled like pot, but you know, good pot. Some high-quality shit. She’s so hot. Oh God. I’m never leaving Stonybrook, like, ever.

Stacey smiled slightly. She cocked her head.

“Shotgun?”

I nodded hungrily. At this point, anything to have her mouth close to mine, I’m okay with. We were on all fours, so we both changed position and sat on our heels. Slowly, like in a slow-motion, she took a long drag from her joint and, even slower, she grabbed the back of my neck with one hand, and with the other, she grasped my chin. She then proceeded to open my mouth slightly and blow. Her red lips were pursed, and her eyes were half-closed. I coughed, but she maintained her iron grip. After what felt like an eternity, she let go and we both leaned back to breathe in deeply.

“Kiss already!” I heard someone say.

Both already out of it, we laughed. We got close again. Our faces were just a few centimetres from each other’s.

“So… payback time, right?” She slurred.

I didn’t understand what she was saying. But it didn’t matter; I was so ready. A strand of hair had fallen on her cheek. Slowly I put the strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers lingered there. Slowly, I touched her earring, then moved my hand over her jawbone, my thumb caressing her cheek, her eyebrow. Lesbians love that shit.

And Stacey too, it seemed. Her eyes were half-closed and her mouth was just a bit open. I think she was panting, but maybe it was that good ole’ Southern Comfort making me see things.

“Just do it now, man” she panted.

That’s what I did. And it was awesome. I can’t remember much, but it was. Kissing a hot girl is always amazing, but this time it was just perfect, even with six pairs of eyes looking straight at us. Straight, get it? Ha ha ha!

Suddenly she grabbed the nape of my neck with her clammy hands and began to kiss my throat and behind my ears. I shuddered. My hands began to roam on her back, her shoulders… And then I slipped my hands under her shirt to caress her boobs clumsily. Did I just did that in front of a bunch of people? I never knew that I could be so bold.

“Fuck…” She moaned in my ear, biting it a bit forcefully.

Oh shit. Oh shit. I’m wet. Oh fuck. All that liquor didn’t prepare me for that shit.

I cupped her face and gave quick pecks on her flushed cheeks. It felt wonderful, but I think that it was sloppy.

Then, we made out for real.

I felt her tongue in my mouth. And it felt fucking great. I could taste the smoke on her tongue. Then I think I made embarrassing suction noises with my mouth. Whatever, I was so drunk and stoned that I couldn’t even care less.

We further moved towards one another. Now, our knees were intertwined, hers dangerously close. It felt exhilarating.

But then there was nothing. My lips were still smooched, waiting for hers. It felt like somebody had removed earplugs that were once in my ears and now I could hear all the noises in the basement. Startled, I opened my eyes and looked around. Some people were passed out, but the rest of them were staring at Stacey and me with their mouth gaping open.

“Holy shit.”

“What the _fuck_ was that?”

I was still horny as hell and my lips felt tingly, but the reality was quickly slapping me in the face. I looked at Bart. I still don’t really know why I did that.

He looked as horny as me, judging from the way his hand was resting discreetly over his crotch.

“Thanks girls, that was great. But could you do that again with no tops off this time?”

Everyone laughed and it loosened the atmosphere, even if it was completely wrong. What does he thinks? That we made out specifically to make him horny? I tried to open my mouth to say something, but the liquor and the pot and the kissing had made it numb. I searched for Stacey. She was laughing too, while trying to remove the smudged lipstick from her face. Completely fed up, I got up and stumbled to the bathroom. That small trip made me dizzy and nauseous. As soon as I clumsily closed the door behind me, I puked. The last thing I remembered, I was trying to remove my puke from my “Hole” t-shirt. How collegiate of me.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't feel the need to write chapter notes until this particular chapter. This chapter is extremely close to my heart, due to the fact that it is basically as if I'm writing in my diary. All the questioning that Kristy is doing in this chapter is the same questioning that I've been through. At first, I was quite hesitant to write so openly and so unabashedly about it. However, I think that it makes it more genuine. Anyway. That's that.

“Score!!!" 

“Oh my God, shut up, Jo.”

I was hidden beneath my blankets; hangover as fuck and finally back at my house after I had sneaked out of Mary Anne’s house in the early hours of the morning. And presently, at the end of the line was Jo. A very, very proud Jo.

“You go teach that blondie how girls do it better.”

I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the pain. “Ugh. But really, the question we must ask ourselves here is: was that hangover worth it?”

“YES!” screamed Jo at the end of the line.

“Jesus Christ, Jo! Stop screaming like that!”

“Sorry.” She whispered sweetly. I just couldn’t hate her.

“Are you okay, though? How much did you drink?”

“Err… A few beers? And, err, I would say almost a full bottle of Southern Comfort. And we shotgunned.”

She whistled appreciatively.

Her admiration only made me feel grumpier. “Well, I feel like a piece of shit now. So.”

“A beautiful, fierce as fuck, successful with the ladies, piece of shit!”

I cracked a smile. “Well, yeah.”

“So what are you gonna do now?”

“I don’t really know. I’m kinda horrified.”

“Why?”

I sighed. “You should’ve seen their faces after we kissed. It was like I just burned a picture of Jesus in front of their eyes.”

Jo snorted. “They’re probably all jerking off at the memory now, though.”

“But it’s not only because of that. They didn’t know that I-.” I stopped talking. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“That you’re bi?”

When she said it, I felt so paranoid. What if somebody was listening on one of the thousand phones in the house? I swallowed so loudly that she probably heard it all the way from Idaho.

“Yeah.”

Jo sighed. “They were probably going to learn it sooner or later.”

“Jo. They will never understand what it means.”

“Explain it to them. Educate them.”

“They’re just a bunch of rednecks."

“Sooooo by association, does that make YOU a redneck, dearie?”

I whined, completely exasperated. “Jooooo.”

“School the fuck out of those fuckers. Trust me, in the long run, they’ll be grateful. That’s what I did with my parents.” She added as a matter-of-factly.

“I’ll never be able to face them again!”

My voice went all quivery, to my great embarrassment. I’m not supposed to care what they think... Right?

“Kris. They can’t be that bad, man.”

I fought back a sob. That’s it. I’m never getting drunk ever. It’s making as emotionally unstable as a two-year old.

“I’m- I’m-“

“You’re what?” She asked me patiently. The sweetness in her tone broke my heart.

“Just…”

“I know. I’ll wait.”

Thank God I have Jo. She knew me. She knew that if I spoke I would probably start bawling for hours on end.

“I wanna go home, Jo.” I finally whimpered.

“Oh, baby…”

That was the final straw. I tried so much to not cry, but I burst into sobs.

“I’m so scared.” I managed to say after some time.

“What?” Her surprised tone threw me off.

“I- I don’t know why...”

“But Kris, you’re, like, the LGBTQ militant of the year!”

I continued to bawl.

“Kris. What’s happening over there? Why are you such a mess?”

More bawling.

“Kris, Kris! Calm down, please! Just breathe. We’re going to figure this out, okay?”

I nodded stupidly.

“Okay.” I croaked. 

“Why are you scared?”

“Whenever I’m here, I just think about all those things.”

“What things?” Jo asked.

“I don’t know… My mom, the Club, me…” I took a breath. “Bart” I added quietly.

“But what about your mom? You know that she knew that you’re bi. What’s the big deal? You can manage her bitchiness all year, why not now?”

“I don’t know…” I muttered. What is this? A Dr. Phil intervention?

“I think you do, man.”

I didn’t anything.

Jo sighed. “Okay, what about your Club?”

“I-…” I wiped my tears with my blanket. “It’s like, every time I see them, everything comes back.”

“What?”

“The shame.” I shed more tears. “I’m not a badass like you."

I think I truly managed to throw off Jo.

“Huh?!”

“Yeah. All year, I’m this perfect women’s studies major, hooking up with anyone I want, cursing white men, writing those kickass essays, living in that perfect feminist bubble. But whenever I take a step out of campus, I’m just a stupid girl with internalized misogyny so deep in the closet that she’s too afraid to even look at girls.”

“Okay. Kris, this is going to sound incredibly cheesy, but you know that nobody’s perfect, right?”

“Well, last time I heard, _you_ didn’t made out with your super hot straight friend in front of a bunch of your conservatives childhood friends, did you?”

“Oh my gosh, Kris. It’s not a big deal!”

“Yes! Yes, it is! I had sleepovers all the time with those girls when we were growing up. Now they’re all going to think that I was only doing that to do what God knows under their sleeping bags when they were sleeping... And we were always changing clothes in front of one another! They’re going to think that I was always peeking. And I was always such a tomboy, growing up. No wonder I have the hots for girls, right? So predictable! I’m becoming a stereotype! What are they going to think now?”

“Oh my God! Kris, _you_ were a tomboy???” She asked, bewildered, completely missing the point.

I sniffed, all choked up. “Yeah. I used to only wear turtlenecks and snapbacks and play sports. And I didn’t start to wear a bra until I was sixteen.”

Jo laughed. “Holy shit! You’ve changed so much!”

“I was always the one in charge, the bossy one.”

“Hmmm.”

“Yeah, and look at me now. I’m crying like a baby underneath my blankets, too hungover and scared to get out of the house. Oh my gosh, what is the Club going to think about that? They must be so please about how pathetic I am now.” I said bitterly.

“Kris, why is this all so important to you? Just hear me out. First, girls kiss girls everyday. If they don’t get over it, _they’re_ seriously pathetic and you don’t need them in your life. Second, you have the choice to NEVER see them again, so stop pulling your panties in a twist! And third, you were all so drunk, who cares? Everybody makes out with everybody when they’re drunk! It doesn’t mean _anything_ , and I’m sure Stacey’s already forgotten all about it. ”

“Whatever.” I snapped, frustrated at how simple Jo made it all seem. It was a big deal, _okay_?

“Oh, and also, could you stop with the “what are they going to think” rant that you’re doing right now? I thought you already knew that being LGBTQ, you’re going to have to deal with the backlash all your life. Even if you don’t want it, it’s part of your who you are, and it’s part of your life, and part of mine. So I think that worrying about what other people’s think is stupid and pointless.”

I didn’t speak.

Her tone softened. “They can all go hell, Kris. If they’re going to treat you like shit because you’re bi, they don’t deserve you.”

“I guess.”

I heard a distant voice at the end of the line.

“Ugh, that’s my mom, I have to go. But promise me to not beat yourself up for that. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Bye, Kris. Love you.”

“Bye.”

 

 

My conversation with Jo wasn’t really conclusive. I mean, I still worry about what the Club’s going to think. I know that it’s “stupid and pointless” and that it doesn’t matter what they think, but I just can’t stop myself. I can’t stop myself from over-analyzing everything. And I’m going way back. Everything I said when I was a child, every time I frowned at boys and looked at girls. Did somebody knew, back then? Do I look butch now? Are the girls disgusted of me? How should I dress in front of my Stonybrook friends now? Should I wear buttoned-up shirts? What am I supposed to look like? Should I act out-and-proud in that stupid small town, or only “act” bi in Colorado?  Do it means that I would be lying by omission? What does that mean, anyway? What am I supposed to do? Can somebody tell me what to do?

Oh, what would I do to be straight. To be a normal straight girl with a boyfriend. I know how it goes down in the brains of straight people, when they start having feelings toward the “opposite sex”. Well, that’s the thing. It’s always for the opposite sex. It’s never for a friend that you love so much, but you know that she’ll never love you back. They never want to kiss that friend so much that they have the hardest time to pull themselves together. When they watch movies, their stupid crushes are always on the super hot guys. Only the super hot guy. Never on the girl in the back of the screen that makes you wonder why you wouldn’t stop staring at her.

All this thinking made me remember things that I’ve forgotten over the years. Like, at a Club reunion when we were about twelve, I remember clearly now a time when the girls started to talk about boys. And then about girls. I remember someone speaking about bisexuals like they were the Loch Ness monster or fairies, like it was a “do they really exist???” kind of thing. I remember another girl saying that she didn’t understood how somebody could be torn between boys or girls. “It’s like, you _must_ know, deep down, which one you like better!” I remember how I felt when I heard that. I thought to myself “people don’t ask themselves the kind of questions I’ve been asking _myself_?” I remember feeling so sad, and so lonely.

Ugh, why am I not straight? I asked so much to not be! To be _normal_!

Jesus, what am I even saying? Does that make me a bad feminist? What does it makes me? A hypocrite, right?

Yeah, I’m the hypocrite. I’m that kind of double-faced “feminist” that feminists hate so much. I’m one of those stupid girls that make out with their straight friends. I’m one of those desperate girls who are always longing to hug, to touch, their straight friends. I’m so pathetic.

I just want to hide underneath my blankets for the rest of my life. I just want to die there and for people to never see me and to never talk about me.

For the rest of the day, I separated my time between thinking and sleeping and running to the bathroom to puke. That was truly one of the worst hangovers that I’ve ever had.

I didn’t hear a noise in the house all day. I think that everybody was out doing Christmas shopping. Is somebody going to buy me something…? At this point, I don’t have a clue.

Oh, and by the way? Never drinking Southern Comfort _again._


	7. Chapter 7

“Krissy? It’s time for supper.”

I groaned. My head still felt like it was splitting in two. Somebody turned on the lights.

“Stop that!” I screamed. “Turn the lights off!”

“I’m sorry! Sorry!” Exclaimed the small voice. The lights went out and I heard the door closing.

I fell asleep.

 

 

“Krissy? There’s someone who wants to speak to you on the phone?”

“I’m not here!” I grunted.

“…Okay.”

 

 

The next morning, I opened my eyes, unsure of how my body would react. I felt way better than the day before, but still a bit shaky. I got out of bed slowly, waiting to see if I would puke again.

Aaaaand no puke. What a fucking relief.

The thoughts that tortured me all day yesterday tried to crawl back into my brain, but I shut that door in my brain tightly.

I opened the curtains and looked at my clock; 5 am. I decided to take a slower (I smelled like vomit and beer, an interesting yet completely disgusting mix) and did my laundry. It was Friday, and I knew that the maid would only come in at 10, giving me some time to do it myself.

I washed my hair thoroughly. I had no shampoo and no soap, so I took my mother’s. That’s right. Payback time, bitch.

When I stepped out of the shower, I saw that somebody had come in and put fresh towels on the counter. Maybe the maid came in early and was so grateful that she didn’t have to touch my “lesbo” clothes that she decided to give me fresh towels. So nice.

I came back into my room and put on some clothes. The only thing was that I didn’t know what to wear. I only had my “college clothes”, which are the clothes that I only have the guts to wear when I’m away in Colorado. Ripped jeans and buttoned-up shirts, “Hole” and Ani DiFranco t-shirts. But I’m a weak hypocrite, remember? So after going through everything in my bag, I found in the bottom of my luggage a pair of jeans that didn’t have holes in them, so I slipped them on. I put on a bra and looked through my shirts. Hmm. Not very promising.

I decided to look in my old drawers. And it was so weird.

What was my thing with Border Collies t-shirts? Why was I always wearing turtlenecks like a wacko?

And I was so thin! These shirts would never fit me now! And holy shit, I had no boobs! What happened there?

I changed my mind and decided to put on a t-shirt that I brought to wear as a pyjama: a University of Colorado t-shirt. How patriotic of me. But it was okay, I guess…Didn’t make me look bi too much. 

Shut up, Kris. Shut up, shut up, shut up!

I don’t know how long I just paced back in forth in my room, but I finally took the bulls by the horn and decided to do something that I’ve wanted to do since the party. I looked through the phone book and found the number that I was looking for. I took a deep breath, hoped that I wouldn’t wake her up and dialled the number.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Kristy.” My voice was shaky.

“Oh!” She said softly. “Hey.”

“Can I come over? I- I need to speak to you.”

“Okay.”


End file.
